Waning Light
by Livily
Summary: On the brink of day and night, sunsets provide renewal, change, happiness, wonder and every other element that makes the world beyond the Wardrobe so real. *A series of 100 word drabbles. Previously known as Narnian Lily
1. Destruction

_AN: I'm not yet sure how far I want to take these drabbles, but I know that they will be long lasting… I don't plan on finishing this anytime soon. Mostly it's just a quick way for me to keep writing. _

It's probably night time. Or at least, Lucy thinks so. She can't tell in the darkness of the bomb shelter. Instead, a wavering light bulb illuminates the cramped bunker. Lucy prefers darkness to the sight of stacked cans and wilted pillows. Edmund scowls, and Susan fusses. Peter pretends like the world hasn't shattered above them. The lines around Mum's eyes betray the smile she has forced her lips to wear.

A blast shakes the shelter, and Lucy clutches Mum with one hand and Bearamy with the other. Outside, the smoke blots out all light. Even the sun hides from destruction.


	2. In the North

_AN: I'm SO sorry for the delay. These were supposed to be quick and frequent. I've just finished transferring all of my stuff from my PC to a new Mac so things in the digital world have been a little frustrating. Sorry again for the delay. _

Searing rays sidle over the sand dunes, the fading gold beckoning night's chill. A scary chill, Shasta thinks unwillingly. Before him loom twelve Tombs. And probably ghosts, lions, and all sorts of awful things. Shasta's knows he's being a baby, and he's relieved that Aravis isn't here to ridicule him. It's bad enough that he's scared of the silly sunset in the first place.

He wonders about Narnian sunsets. He can just imagine the sun dipping behind snowy mountains and skipping across lush meadows. Narnian sunsets won't replace blistering heat with creeping cold. No, things will be different in Narnia.


	3. A New World

_AN: This is definitely my favorite chapter so far. I haven't read the _Silver Chair_ in ages, but I reviewed this portion and was struck by the beauty of the scene and the fact that it is completely overlooked that this is Eustace's first time on Narnian land. And this update was much faster!_

Eustace has known Narnia to be a world of fairy tales, yet as he stands before the grandeur of Cair Paravel, he is struck by the way the setting sun glints off of the castle's many windows, illuminating the ocean in kaleidoscope of color and light. Overwhelmed by dozens of creatures, a seemingly luminous castle, and the sun-washed mountains beyond, Eustace finds himself acutely aware of all that his cousins once were. He cannot comprehend this world's splendor or majesty.

It is Eustace's first true glimpse of Narnia, and he does not believe he could ever love a place more.


	4. Loss

Wind rushes at Caspian as horse hooves pound upon sand, the furious beat echoing the rapid pulse of his own, irrevocably shattered heart. He races from Cair Paravel, from those who cannot understand his grief.

Finally, he stops, slumping into ocean froth, willing the tide to strip him of this pain. A wail tears through Caspian as he gazes east into the coming night. The darkness pursues him—as this sun sets, he does not see how it may rise ever again.

Soon, Stars will speckle the sky, yet none shall ever replace she whom he loved, the Star's Daughter.

_AN: That's right, Ramandu's daughter. Not Susan. _


	5. Children for a Moment

Peter snatches Susan's hand, dragging her through emptied streets. Rain flattens their hair, and behind him, his younger sister bemoans their soaked condition.

"It's nearly dark, Peter! What will Mum say?"

He pulls her beneath an overhang, laughing as water drips from her clothing. She gives him her most reprimanding look and glances about for anyone familiar before lightly shoving her brother into the darkening light and pouring rain.

Not to be outdone, Peter tugs a shrieking Susan along, each splashing the other.

The sun fades, and neither sibling can know that opportunity for similar levity vanishes with this sun.


	6. Statues

Little separates day from night in a world hidden beneath eternal snow clouds. The feeble rays of the sun cannot stave a cold that might freeze the fires of Hell. These flickers of gold do nothing more than whisper of a prophecy yet unfulfilled.

The surrender of the sun each night leaves winter to reign and her mistress to paralyze the hearts of the hopeful with an everlasting cold.

Without the sun's weak caress, there is nothing to draw stone statues from their frigid despair. Alone, frozen, and hopeless, Tumnus can only pray that tomorrow's sun may vanquish this cold.


	7. Waiting

The last of day's light spills across the dusty floorboards as Digory halts before the Spare Room. The shadowed Wardrobe beckons him, whispering of enchantment. He pauses before the intricately carved doors, uncovering memories hidden long ago. The doors creak when opened, and Digory tentatively steps inside.

For a moment, the Wardrobe is filled with frigid cold, and Digory allows himself one foolish hope. Then, the breeze stills, for it is not Digory who can end a 100-year winter. Digory covers the Wardrobe, leaving it to wait in obscurity until a little queen appears to strip it of this darkness.

_AN: I like this chapter, though I feel the ending is shaky. It actually started out as Digory in the Wardrobe after the events of LWW, but I like it this way better. _


	8. Failure

_AN: I've always been fascinated with what happened to Edmund and Susan during their time in Calormen. _

Edmund finds Susan staring tearfully at terraced gardens and destitute streets beyond.

"I'm so sorry, Edmund."

"Susan, hush." He hugs her awkwardly. "Yours is not a sin of betrayal. You have strayed, like all do."

Her voice is bitter. "The mistakes of others do not endanger a nation."

Edmund's warm hand grasps Susan's comfortingly. "We shall hasten toward Narnia with the setting sun."

Susan gazes at Calormen, an exotic and fascinating world.

"Bolster your courage, Sister. I fear we have not seen the last of your honey-lipped lover."

She lets Edmund guide her away from the balcony and wretched heat.


	9. Without Light

_Really quickly, I wanted to address the issue of my changed pen name. I did change from Narnian Lily to Livily—the reasoning is on my profile, but I just wanted to clear up that I am the same person. _

"There is no sun."

The words draw Rilian back into a world of darkness—an uncomfortably familiar world. Yes, he knows the Lady to be right. She does not lie to him. The image of a giant lamp hanging from nothing seems laughable.

The dankness of the Underworld engulfs him. _There is no sun. There is no sky. This is all. _The incantation thrums through the chamber, suffocating Rilian. Unknowingly, he slams his hands to his ears, willing the darkness to subside, praying for _something._

And then, the girl whispers a word that replaces the gloom with golden light.

"Aslan."

_AN: This is certainly one of my favorites. I thought about saving it until the end just because it's everything I imagined for this drabble series—even if it's not exactly about a sunset._


	10. Fairy Tale

As the sun sets, the girls giggle and whisper of princes and fairy tales. Several think that dusk is the loveliest time of day, and say so aloud.

"Have you not seen a sunrise?" Polly Plummer's is an unexpected voice. She has been quiet tonight, remembering her own fairy tale.

She prompts them. "Have you?"

There is such light in her eyes. The girls shake their heads.

"It's absolutely wonderful. It's… it's like the world is singing itself awake."

They wait for more, but Polly has finished. Instead, she returns to her own fantasy where horses fly and Lions speak.


	11. A Glimpse

AN: I'm finally back! This year has been one of large changes, leaving little time for pleasure writing. Anyhow, this is a simple chapter dealing with my favorite of the Narnia stories. It's good to be back.

**

Edmund perches lightly on his sleeping sister's bed. Her gold hair is ablaze in the moonlight, and Edmund is reminded of dances lit only by stars.

He wills his pounding heart to slow, striving to forget the anxiety of a dream world where he and Lucy are forever imprisoned in this very un-Narnian house of snobbish relatives and fake light.

Lucy mumbles something about a ship, drawing his attention to a painting of a majestic vessel with purple sails and a dragon-shaped prow.

He blinks, and in that second, awash in starlight, waves crash, sails flap, and the painting lives.


	12. Pretend

A sea of white lilies beckons them onward, but for the first time in her life, Lucy cannot bear to look east. Instead, she stands on the poop deck, watching the sun set.

"You look to Narnia?" Caspian joins her, gripping her hand.

Wistfulness overwhelms her as Narnia's sun disappears. If she squints, she can pretend it isn't over— that lilies are snow, that the sun is rising, that Narnia still waits for its Golden Age.

"Queen Lucy?"

The sun has gone, but Lucy's tear-filled eyes focus on her pretend.

When she speaks, it is a whisper.

"My heart breaks."


	13. Feelings

They hadn't talked about their _feelings _since the Golden Age.

So when Lucy fell into step beside Edmund, they had nothing to say. Both knew hearts had been given, left in another time and place. To speak of passing fancies now would dishonor beloved memories.

The leaves crunched beneath their feet, and Caspian and Lillandil drifted away.

They didn't have to speak. Edmund had seen the way Lucy twisted her hair around Caspian. Lucy had noticed Edmund's wide eyes when the Star's daughter appeared.

So they let the gap widen. And the halo of light surrounding Caspian and Lillandil faded.


	14. Choosing the Train

Susan squints down the railway tunnel, focusing, focusing, focusing on that golden Mane. She stares even after it's gone, after her last glimpse of Narnia has faded with the shrill call of a train.

Now, she stands in a bustling train station, her brothers and sister beside her, all filled with an immediate yearning to go _back. _Except Susan can't. Never again.

Lucy squeezes her hand, sympathetic pain etched across her face. But Lucy can go back. She can't understand.

So Susan forces a smile and turns away from castles and Talking Animals. She gets on the train. Doors close.


End file.
